


Lips Like Morphine

by LashesToAshes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LashesToAshes/pseuds/LashesToAshes
Summary: Hermione Granger thinks she's been a very stupid girl. Draco Malfoy thinks he is one hell of a lucky guy. Muggle AU. COMPLETE.





	1. One 'Stupid' Girl

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - I do hope you enjoy this - just a little idea that wouldn't leave until I wrote it, complete with song recs on my Tumblr page (same as my pen name). I appreciate first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, and there probably will be a couple of little tense mistakes, but I didn't want to over analyse it and ruin it.

I’ve been a very stupid girl.

It all started that day in the library. That fateful day where Draco Malfoy took my virginity - up against a bookcase - even though the library was open and full of students frantically studying for their final exams. Something I should have been doing.

I definitely should not have been kissing Draco Malfoy, let alone shagging him.

I am what you would call a ‘late bloomer’. Although, I rather hate that term myself. So what if I didn’t start shagging boys the moment my hormones kicked in? That doesn’t define who I am. That doesn’t mean anything.

Well, it does mean something. It means I cheated on my devoted boyfriend.

Do I feel guilty about it? Yes.

But did I tell him? No, I didn’t.

Now, I know that wasn’t the right thing to do, but I couldn’t do that to him! He was just so sweet and kind and...not my type, in all honesty. 

I didn’t actually start officially dating Ron until after I slept with Draco, but I still feel like I cheated on him. We were dating, we were becoming intimate, and then Draco happened.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. We’d been paired up together for the last assignment of the term - I can’t remember now what it was - and we’d been working together for a while. I thought nothing of the way he behaved around me, holding open the doors, carrying my books and such - until after.

I’d left our desk - yes, we had a designated desk - in search of a different textbook. It was kept way in the back of the library, up on one of the high shelves. Being ‘vertically challenged’ as my friends like to call it, meant I had to climb up onto the ledge to gain the extra height. 

It really wasn’t that high. But when Draco saw me, stood on tiptoe trying to reach this damn book, he snuck up on me - trying to get a look up my skirt, the perv. 

Feeling his warm breath on the back of my legs startled me and I turned too quickly, obviously losing my balance and falling into his strong arms. 

Now, before I get too carried away. Let me tell you something about Draco. 

He is fucking hot. He’s got that brooding look about him, the floppy cute platinum blonde hair - which I was sure was hair dye, no one has hair that blonde - and he plays in a band. A good band. I knew they’d make it big - everyone our age was in a band, but these guys had the magic to get there.

So, we’re stood there. Fucking hot Draco and I, in this kind of embrace. My body is wedged between the bookcase and him, my ass awkwardly perched on the ledge I had been stood on earlier, and he’s not moving, just staring at me. 

As his gaze darts down, I realise my shirt has popped open, displaying a bit more of my cleavage than it should have been but my god - his smirk is sinful. The perfect combination of cheek and arrogance rolled into one.

And then he kissed me. Not just a peck on the lips. Oh no, that would have been easy to dismiss. No, this was a full-on, impassioned snog. You know the kind? Your knees go weak, your breath hitches, and your brain stops thinking.

I lost all sense of where I was and that anyone could walk around the corner to this aisle and see me with my legs now wrapped around Draco’s waist. Clinging onto him for dear life as our tongues tangoed. 

It was heaven. I swear I saw stars. Every part of me tingled and as that tingle turned to a throb - something I thought to be over dramatised in films but I totally get it now - Draco shifted slightly, pushing me harder against the bookcase so he could fumble with the button on his jeans.

Logically, I should have seen where it was headed. But I was so caught up in him! I’d never experienced anything like this before. It was so raw and so powerful I didn’t want to stop him. So, as his skilled fingers danced their way up my leg and pushed aside my panties, I did nothing except enjoy the moment. 

When he touched me for the first time, he groaned - actually groaned! The noise sent shivers down my spine, and I pulled him closer. I knew then that I was lost. The noise did things to me I never thought possible. I wanted to hear it time and time again. 

I cried out when he pushed himself inside me, one swift, hard movement and that was it. My cherry - theoretically - popped, as my muscles spasmed, pulling him closer. Well, I tried to cry out, but Draco was still kissing me. Any noise I made was swallowed by him, which was just as well really. We didn’t need everyone in the library knowing what we were up to.

It was so surreal. 

There we were, in the middle of the day, fucking in the library.

Now, let me tell you another thing about Draco Malfoy. He likes to talk dirty. When the kissing became a bit too much - honestly, I gasping for breath by that point - he proceeded to tell me, in no uncertain terms, just exactly what he wanted to do to me. With his lips whispering delightful promises straight into my ear as he rutted against me, I had to remind myself not to scream. He was so filthy, and I loved every word of it. 

Who wouldn’t want to be told, in the heat of the moment, that they were the best sex he’d ever had? This coming from the man who had quite a reputation as a ladies man, might I add. In the aftermath, I wasn’t so sure I believed him. What could have been so special about me? Was it because he was taking my virginity? Was I tighter than the other girls he slept with? Most of whom had a reputation just like his?

Or was it something else? Was it the fact we could have gotten caught at any moment? And therefore, nothing really to do with me, just the situation we found ourselves in - which could be easily re-created. 

Anyway, I digress. You don’t need to know what happened next, you might be curious but you don’t need to know. 

I was telling you how I had been a very stupid girl. 

After my experience, rendezvous, romp, tryst - whatever you want to call it - with Draco, everything changed. 

My relationship with Ron progressed.

My exams grew closer and closer, and my stress levels grew and grew.

I found myself seeing more and more of Draco. Whether it was him pulling me aside into an empty classroom or me texting him to come help me ‘study’ - I couldn’t help myself. 

I swore every time would be the last - it never was. 

I broke up with Ron three months after I became his official girlfriend. It was awful. Hideous, in fact. There was crying, albeit on his part, and endless questions of why. Why are you leaving me? Why don’t we give it another chance? Why don’t we talk about it after we’ve both calmed down?

But, I couldn’t string him along anymore. 

I told him there was someone else. I never said who, and I never will. He asked if I had cheated on him, and I lied. I could see the truth would break him. I was his first proper girlfriend - despite the fact he’d slept with a few girls by the time we got together - the first one he took to meet his family, the first one he imagined a future with, but I wasn’t the girl in those dreams. 

I was the girl who couldn’t get enough of Draco Malfoy. Not that I was the only one - half the girls in our class pined after Draco, but I was the only one who was having him. I will give Draco that credit: if he was sleeping with you, he was only sleeping with you. 

Damn it, I’ve done it again. I’ve digressed.

I guess I should tell you that I’m currently sat in a toilet cubicle, listening to the music which is blaring from the concert I am attending. The band that is warming up for Draco’s sucks, but I’m not really here for the music, not tonight.

It’s been years since that fateful day with Draco, and we’ve come a long way. 

Draco is now a successful musician, his band tours around the world, thousands of people scream his name every night, and the smarmy git loves it. It gives him a buzz that nothing can compare to - not even sex with me apparently. 

We’re not dating, heavens no, but, when he’s in town, I’m there. Watching him, dancing to his music, singing along to his lyrics as the guy who can actually sing - Draco can’t sing to save his life - belts out line after line. All full of frontman swagger whilst Draco gets to run around, hammering his guitar as if his life depends on it.

I, by comparison, have a ‘boring’ job. I research river biology, specifically the effects of climate change on the plants and their ecosystems, and I love it. My research means something, and I get to work with other people passionate about making a change.

Once upon a time, I dreamed of a demanding job, climbing the career ladder - it was what I got my degree for after all - but I couldn’t stand it. I worked myself sick in the end. Long hours stuck in a tiny cubicle with five other people, all slogging our guts out, and for what? A fancy email signature? No respect? No thanks?

No, that world was not for me. My new job gives me freedom, I see more of my friends than I used to, and I get to travel. Sometimes, I travel to meet Draco, we spend a few days in whatever city he’s playing in and it’s great.

That actually leads quite nicely to what I’ve been trying to tell you.

You see, I’m sat here, alone, in this toilet cubicle, annoying all the girls who have to pee no doubt, contemplating exactly how I tell Draco I’m pregnant. 

This is where the stupid girl part comes in. 

I visited Draco in New York, the band had a break there for about a week, and he flew me out to see him. I had everything packed, my list was completely checked off, and I headed to the airport, excited to see him after only being able to manage the occasional video chat. 

What I didn’t take into account was the time difference. I don’t know why it slipped my mind but it did. I had packed my pill into my main suitcase, which was promptly whisked away when I checked into the airport, thinking that I wouldn’t need to take it until I had got back to Draco’s hotel.

Only, we didn’t go straight back to the hotel. No, no, no. After he picked me up from the airport - his giant welcome sign shoved into the boot of the car - he took me sightseeing. We went to Central Park, ate a picnic as the sun beat down on us, took a private horse-drawn carriage around the park and explored for hours before he whisked me back to the Hotel. 

Naturally, we slept together. I’ve told you before, I don’t seem to be able to help myself where Draco is concerned, and I promptly passed out in his warm embrace. Totally satisfied in a way I didn’t know I had been missing. 

I didn’t realise my error until later. My period was late, twice. I didn’t worry for the first month, sometimes it just didn’t happen. But, when it didn’t show up the second month, I was concerned. I frantically checked my diary, trying to work out why I was late when it clicked.

There in big bold letters, scrawled over an entire week was Draco’s name. I think I panicked for a moment before common sense kicked in, no point stressing until I’d done a test. But the fucker came back positive. As did the next one, and the five or six after that one.

I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t! 

Not without Draco knowing first. But, he was still touring and I didn’t want to drop a bomb on him over text or Skype. 

So I waited. Draco’s band was finishing up in America, having crushed it with the band they were acting as support for, and had their own headline tour starting soon. Kicking off right here in London - I booked the time off work and starting making my arrangements. 

I have a backstage pass, sitting securely around my neck, but I can’t go back yet. I can’t see him before he plays.

Draco is too perceptive for his own good. I’m barely showing, and I’m wearing looser than usual clothing, but he’d notice. Then he’d ask questions. Questions I can’t answer in such a public place, knowing he’s got to go out and play.

The music has stopped now, to be replaced by the bands choice of psych up music before they come on stage. I’ve got about thirty minutes before I see him in the flesh for the first time in months and about two hours before I slip backstage. I’m grateful for a moment that we don’t have a tradition of me being backstage. My absence right now isn’t strange, but he’s thinking of me, my phone has just buzzed in my bag.

You here? Can’t wait to see you x

Do I lie? Tell him I’m running late so I’ll see him afterwards? No, now is not the time for lies.

I’m here, just getting a drink at the bar. You nervous? x

Draco is never nervous. He lives for this, thrives on the chaotic energy that bounces around the room and I can almost see his smirk as I read his reply.

Me? Nervous? Never! What are you wearing? ;) x

I snort, a pathetic attempt to smother my laughter. Even as my stomach is starting to flutter, nerves or movement from the baby I can’t tell, Draco can always make me laugh. 

You’ll see x

I respond, putting my phone away with a small smile when he doesn’t reply instantly. Right now, they’ll be going through their rituals, getting themselves ready. I stand, tucking the t-shirt which drapes over me into the waistband of my skirt at the hip, just the one side so it still covers the small bump. It’s one of the first t-shirts the band ever had printed. It’s Draco’s, but I’m the only one who wears it. It’s my favourite, reminds me of our history. 

Standing in the crowd, I wait nervously for the lights to go down, as they do, I scream Draco’s name at the top of my lungs, poking my tongue out at him as he smirks down at me. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the Father of my child. I have to fight the urge to reach down and press and hand over the barely-there bump.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur, the driving rhythm of Draco’s guitar making me jump and shout with everyone else. As they play their last song, a homage to their rock and roll roots, I shimmy my way out of the crowd, careful to avoid the mosh pit lest anyone harm my baby, and over to the band's security guard.

He lets me in easily. I’ve met the guy multiple times but still never caught his name. My pass is hardly needed. Making my way into the room, I recognize the space where Draco got ready: it’s the tidiest part of the whole room with one picture propped against the mirror. I smile as I pick it up. It’s a picture of us, taken by Draco one night years ago on his phone. I was asleep at the time but nestled perfectly into the crook of his neck, Draco is devoid of his natural smirk. Instead, he’s smiling with a twinkle in his eye.

I can do this. I tell myself as the door from the stage crashes open, hitting the wall behind it as the boys pour in, all smiles and laughter - absolutely drenched in sweat. 

Before I know it, Draco has wrenched himself away from the guys and is standing in front of me, his silver eyes crackling with electricity as he swoops me up and spins me. My head falls back as my laughter escapes me, he always does this and it makes me feel so free.

When he settles me back down on my feet, he kisses me and my brain disengages for a moment, that is, until his hand starts to creep under my t-shirt. Reluctantly, I pull away. I think I can count the number of times I’ve said no to Draco on one hand so his look of confusion is understandable. 

“Can we go somewhere private?” I ask, my request is met by a cheer from the guys behind him and, as Draco leads us out of the room, there is more than one lewd comment. I laugh again, their easy banter is a welcome distraction. My nerves don’t set in until Draco and I are alone.

We’re in the lightbox. How he knew to get in there is beyond me, but in this moment, it’s not important. What’s important is the way he’s looking at me. His eyes carefully scan my face, no doubt looking for a sign of what’s to come before they move to assess my body. Nobody knows my body like Draco does, so it is of no surprise to me when his gaze rests on my stomach.

Instead of tensing up, like I anticipated - this is, after all, an unplanned pregnancy - Draco softens, his head tilting to the side as he tries to see me from a different angle. When he meets my gaze again, his expression is unfathomable. There are so many emotions chasing across his chiseled features, each of them happier and brighter than the last, I can’t keep up. 

Just as I open my mouth to speak those words, Draco is on me, consuming me like a man starved. I sag a little into his embrace, and Draco moves so he’s now seated with me straddling his lap. His hands move freely under my t-shirt, skating across the slightly raised bump where our baby lies, and I all I can feel is love. Every kiss, every caress is different and yet better, our relationship - if you can call our thing a relationship - has transformed into something else entirely and it’s beautiful. 

Draco shifts, a murmur of, “I need you, now,” escaping his lips as he kisses my skin, fighting with the belt on his jeans so he can free himself. 

It’s fast and it’s urgent, but that doesn’t take anything away from the moment. When we finish, each of us quietly regaining our breaths, I feel optimistic for our future. Maybe, I’m not such a stupid girl after all. I had no idea how Draco would react. We’d never spoken of committing to each other, let alone children, but here we were, celebrating our little accident. 

Voices echo outside and I am forcibly reminded of our first time together, with a giggle I hop off Draco’s lap and begin tidying myself up as he does the same. As the door opens, Draco launches into some spiel about how the lighting equipment works, hoping to distract the poor guy who has just walked into his workplace which now smells of sex, before giving him a nod and taking me back to the backstage room.

As soon as we walk in through the door, Draco is shouting. “We’re having a baby!” to all of his stunned colleagues, and a few lucky reporters. Inwardly, I sigh, I’m not going to rain on his parade, he didn’t know the reporters would be here, but I would have liked to have told my parents - at least - that they were going to be grandparents before it was splashed in some magazine. 

Draco and I have been photographed together enough times for them to know my name, my parents' names and my close friends. The press are vipers like that. But, the look of total joy on Draco’s face is worth everything that will follow.

Beers are opened as the reporters leave, a satisfied glint in their eyes as the boys toast to the baby, belatedly realising that no, I won’t be having a beer. Dumbasses, I think briefly as Draco tucks me safely into his side. 

We know the next few months are going to be difficult. Draco will be away touring the rest of Europe before moving onto Asia, then America, where their shows are scheduled right up until my due date. We talk the following day about logistics, what he can do to make sure he is there for the birth of his child, but I’m not concerned. When Draco questions me, I point out all the times he has defied the impossible. I don’t expect the birth of our child to be any different. 

With a lopsided grin, Draco agrees, conceding that in the worst case, the band will just have to get a backup guitarist to cover him should I show signs of going into labour. 

It’s with a heavy heart I bid Draco goodbye the following day. He’s already waited as long as possible to travel, the band having left the night of the London gig to move onto the next. If he waits any longer, he’ll miss it, and I can see the indecision in his eyes. Leave me and go play or stay with me and let the band down?

I mumble my reassurances, I have every means possible of contacting him should I need to in an emergency. Not to mention the fact we’ll Skype as often as possible. He promises to be available for me whenever I need him. I tell him I know and gently push him towards the door. 

As the door closes behind him, a few tears escape me. He’s been gone five seconds, and I already miss him. My hands come to rest over my bump and I remember, I have a little piece of him with me. It is with that thought that I pull myself back together, I’m Hermione Granger for christ sake, I can do this.


	2. One Lucky Guy

I felt awful as I walked away from her - them - but Hermione was right, I had to go. 

The first month was the easiest, the time difference wasn't that big so I could talk to her most days and nights. Hermione showered me with information, showing me all the books she had read and the ones she had yet to read. It was fascinating. 

The way her body was actually growing another human. A bit of her and a bit of me. I had never expected to feel so enamoured by someone I hadn’t met yet, but I wanted - no, needed - to know every detail of the pregnancy. 

Hermione sent me pictures too, and not just the naughty kind. It was every new stretch mark, the way my t-shirts had stretched to accommodate the bump and all the cute little baby clothes she had found whilst shopping. All gender neutral.

We had decided that we quite liked the surprise of being pregnant, so why not keep the baby's sex a surprise too? Secretly, I hoped it was a girl. A mini Hermione. For me, nothing could be more perfect. Hermione wanted a boy for the same reasons. 

I was lucky. We had a break in the tour, and I got to go home, just for a day. Not that I actually own a house anymore. No, I sold it before the tour started. My home is with Hermione. I surprised her, I'd called her boss the week before and asked them to let her have the day off but to keep it a secret. 

They did. I arrived at her house just as she was about to leave and she froze, tears welling in those big brown eyes as she launched herself at me. We didn’t leave her place all day. We talked names, decided on a colour for the nursery, planned anything that was possible to plan. Then, utterly exhausted we fell into bed. I didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to miss a minute of Hermione and, just as she was about to drift off, the baby kicked. It was magical. 

It was strange but addictive. As Hermione slept, I kept my hands on her swollen stomach, waiting with bated breath for the next movement, kissing her skin and talking endlessly to the baby. 

The next three months were terrible. I'd had a taste of what I was missing, and I wanted more. I couldn’t deal with how much I was missing out on. Every time I talked about coming home, Hermione would calm me down, reminding me that this was my dream. Always had been. But, what if my dream was something different now?

The band had finished touring Europe, and we were in Asia before we had to return to the USA, completing the final leg of our expansive tour. 

Talking to Hermione became almost impossible, not that I wasn't inundated with videos of the baby moving, pictures of her and the bump growing. But I missed her. Could you really count endless messages and pictures, talking? It felt like years since I’d last heard her voice.

Fuck, I missed her. 

I wanted to see her. I wanted to make her smile, watch the blush warm her cheeks as I told her just how fucking sexy she looked carrying my child. I yearned to hear her voice. I started calling her every night, knowing she wouldn’t answer because she was asleep, leaving her voicemails so she could hear me, so she knew I was always thinking of her.

The distance was starting to take its toll. There were thousands of miles separating us, and I knew she was struggling too. It was there in her eyes on the odd occasion we actually got to video call. She looked tired. She still glowed, but it was a muted glow. 

I felt like such a bastard, I should have been there for her. Up with her through the night when she couldn’t sleep. Rubbing her muscles when they cramped and spasmed, but I wasn’t.

My life had become an endless stream of rehearsals, interviews, shows and being on the damn bus. Confined with my bandmates who had no idea what I was going through. They partied. I joined in on the odd occasion, but I just felt it was wrong. What if I got too drunk and missed a call from Hermione? What if I wasn’t there for her when she needed me?

I didn’t want to be that guy who wasn’t there for his girl. 

Saying that, I never missed a doctor’s appointment. No matter what the time difference, I was there, video chatting, listening and learning. I watched our child grow, move and heard its heartbeat, so strong like its Mother. I should have been by her side, physically, instead of digitally. 

Around the eight-month mark, Hermione broke. I nearly got on a plane and told the band to find another guitarist. It was three am where I was, and she called me in tears. Not just tears, full on blubbering tears. I could tell she’d been at it for hours before she finally caved and called me. She was scared.

Scared that I’d miss the birth. Scared that she’d be an awful Mother. Scared that everything would change after she had the baby.

It broke my heart. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to her, encouraging me to stay and live out my dream. What kind of dream was it when it left her alone? It wasn’t until I put her on speaker phone and started frantically chucking anything I could find into my rucksack that she stopped. Promising me that she was ok, it was just the hormones, I didn’t need to come back.

But, if I could just make time go faster on my side of the world, she would be grateful. 

I kept her on the phone, texting Ginny to go over and check on her, until she had calmed down. I heard the doorbell ring in the background and her voice muffle as Ginny wrapped her in a hug. There was a murmured conversation, and then Hermione was thanking me for sending Ginny, how well I knew her, she really was ok now. I kept my passport in my hand, ready for Ginny to tell me I really did need to get my ass home, but that didn’t happen.

It wasn’t long after the outburst that I found myself sitting bolt up in bed, the strangest feeling of wrongness settling in my gut. 

It had been too long. 

I hadn’t seen Hermione - in the flesh - for months now. It didn’t matter that we were nearing the end of the tour. It wasn’t soon enough. I needed to go home, now. With a quick glance around the bus, I realised I had nothing there I would miss. Passport in one hand, phone in the other, I woke Sev. 

The drive to the airport was quick and my luck was in. There was a plane due to depart in a few hours for London, I bought my ticket and checked my social media whilst in the departure lounge. The last message I had from Hermione had been hours ago, figuring out the time difference, I realised she’d be asleep, well she should be anyway. I sent a quick message to Ginny, telling her I was coming back and my flight number, just so someone knew. 

I wanted to surprise Hermione. Tell her face to face that I was home, I wasn’t leaving again. I was ready for this.

Hours later, my mind was racing, I didn’t understand why I was full of so much anxious energy, the need to see her was overwhelming, intoxicating. I wanted to ask the pilot to go just a bit faster, despite knowing that we were covering around 500 miles an hour. There was no quicker way to get home. 

I wrote. Page after page of lyrics pouring out as I thought of Hermione, our child. It stunned me to realise how far we’d come since that day in the library. Maybe we had always been destined for one another. Was destiny a real thing? Would our life be something from a movie?

Better yet, would our life be better than the movies?

The plane landed and I was the first one off. I had nothing with me, nothing to slow me down, so I dodged and weaved my way through the meandering crowds. Standing in the stupidly long line for border control, I flipped my phone on, surprised when it went off like a bomb.

Never had I had so many messages, missed calls, failed Skype calls, emails - every form of communication was clogged up. 

Hermione, Sev, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Blaise, Hermione, Theo, Hermione, Gregg…

I don’t remember reading any of Hermione’s messages, I just remember moving, pushing my way to the front of the line and slapping my passport down.

Now I needed to get through. I needed to be with her.

People complained - arrogant prick, self-indulgent bastard - I ignored all their comments and stared down the border official, daring him to send me to the back of the line.

Something in my eyes must have warned him not to fuck with me. He let me through, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Momentarily, of course, I had no idea how to get where I needed to be. My mind felt foggy and then someone was shouting my name.

My name gets shouted a lot. 

I ignored them. I didn’t have the time for them. Not now.

My phone rang and I jumped, answering the call without even reading the name on the screen. Being called a prick and told to turn around confused me, but I did it. My eyes landing on none other than Harry freaking Potter. 

With a jerk of his thumb, I was following him, exiting the airport and running to his car which he started quickly. Before I knew it, we were on the motorway, the scenery whizzing past us in a blur.

There were a few words of comfort. Ginny was with her, as were her parents. She wasn’t expecting me to make it, she just wanted to hear my voice. Everything had been so sudden but she was fine.

My heart wouldn’t stop trying to beat out of my chest. Should I call her and tell her I’m on my way? We weren’t that far from the city centre. I knew her. If I called, she’d hold on, wait for me to turn up, and that wouldn’t help.

I had to be there in time without her knowing. I had to live up to her expectation that I always defied the impossible. 

Thank the powers above that I got out of bed, I got on that plane, and I wasn’t detained at the airport for acting like a prick. 

We skidded to a halt outside the tall, imposing building. Harry gave me instructions and wished me luck, I could barely speak.

My brain repeated the instructions and I found myself on the right floor in no time. The nurse recognised me, ushered me quickly down the hall and outside the door where I could hear Hermione’s colourful curses, their volume shook the hinges.

I hesitated.

Was I ready for this?

Then I heard her whimper my name. Why isn’t he calling? The door gave way easily as I turned the knob.

Hermione looked up. Her face stunned for a quick moment before another contraction twisted pain upon her features. She released Ginny’s hand and reached out to me, I surged forward - barely noticing as Ginny moved out of the way - my arm flawlessly replacing hers as it held up Hermione’s leg. 

She was red-faced, her usually curly hair stuck to her face with sweat, but that didn’t matter. 

I was there. I’d done it, defied the odds, and was present for the birth of my child.

With our foreheads resting against each other, her hand cradled against my chest as I uttered endless words of encouragement, our child was born. I’d got there just in the nick of time. Hermione collapsed back, her chest heaving with exhaustion as the baby's cry rang out in the room.

I kissed her - there are no words to describe how I felt in that moment - and she kissed me. Then the nurse came over, placing the little bundle into Hermione’s arms as she announced that we had a little baby girl.

Baby Girl Malfoy, Hermione said, her voice weak from her screams, but my heart soared. The conviction in her voice blew me away. I knew I had everything I ever needed right there. I looked down at my girls. Hermione gently cooing to our baby, her little head smattered with wispy blonde locks as she squirmed against her pink blankets. 

When Hermione looked up at me, I’m sure the world stopped turning. A thousand words passed between us and we both knew this was it. The start of our lives together - a family. 

I’m sat here now, holding my child as she sleeps, staring at the woman I love wondering how the hell I got so lucky. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I shimmy it out, realising it’s a video call from Blaise, I turn the volume down and slide my thumb across the screen to answer it. The screen flashes to life and I quickly mumble a “Sssh,” before they can all start shouting out. I see myself for the first time, in that little screen nestled in the corner, and I look different. I’m not sure if it’s the sleeping child on my chest or a new spark in my eye, but I am not the same person anymore.

The lads cheer - albeit quietly, for which I am grateful - and then I am bombarded with questions. Did I make it in time? How does it feel? When can they meet her? It makes me realise that these guys get me. They know what is important. We can have all the fame we like, but it counts for nothing if we miss out on amazing moments like this one.

Hermione stirs, and I bid them a hasty goodbye, sealed with a promise of a picture showing off my happy little family. I already have one. Taken when I had climbed into the bed with Hermione - after everyone else had left - and just held her, them, and Hermione had fallen asleep, wrapped perfectly around me and our precious daughter. 

As Hermione’s eyes open, so do the baby’s, just for a moment, and I am once again struck by the amount of love I have for them both. I don’t want anything else, I don’t need anyone else - just them. My brain quickly reminds me of the item sat in my wallet, something I have been carrying around ever since I found it, Hermione is barely awake but the words slip from my lips before I can stop them.

“Marry me?” I ask, moving so I can flip my wallet open with one hand and retrieve that perfect diamond ring, before my knee sinks to the floor, our baby still nestled in the crook of my arm sleeping soundly. 

There are more words, declarations, promises, and as I become more nervous - she hasn’t said anything yet - I notice the smile on her face is getting wider and wider. That’s when I know I have her. I stand, the question still shining in my eye as I take her left hand, hovering the ring over her finger, just waiting for her to say yes.

It’s done with a nod - for the first time ever, words have failed Hermione Granger. I’m back on the bed again, embracing her, kissing her, and after a while, we just lie there. Content to bask in the afterglow.

The following day Hermione is released from the hospital and the band play their final show. We are enjoying a moment of silence when my phone pings, alerting me that the band has just started a live video, I double tap it open and watch as they shred into the first song. When they pause after - breaking our well-rehearsed set - I know they are up to something. 

All of a sudden, the stage is lit and they are talking to the crowd, explaining my absence, before Theo - the bloody bastard - points up to the big screen and screams a congratulations to Drakey and the soon to be Mrs Malfoy on the arrival of their beautiful baby girl. Complete with the picture I took of Hermione and I, cuddling our newborn. 

Even through a phone, the roar of the crowd is deafening, Hermione giggles, making a comment that they certainly know how to put on a show, before rushing off to soothe the baby.

The screaming dies down and the boys dedicate the rest of the show to baby girl Malfoy. I shut my phone off, Hermione is settling back in next to me with the baby in her arms. We really need to settle on a name for our little cherub, she can’t be baby girl Malfoy forever. No matter how much I like it. I pull the list of names forward, it’s changed so much since we first wrote it, and ask the baby who she thinks she is.

Is she a Madison? A tribute to the venue I played when Hermione came to visit? Or is she a Pandora? Already bestowed with the gifts of beauty and musical ability? Or perhaps, an Alice? A classic name which references the book she loved hearing Hermione read? The adventures making her kick and squirm the most?

Hermione repeats the questions, kissing the baby's’ tiny fist as it grips her finger and then, as she repeats the questions a second time our little girl gurgles. We look to each other and know that’s it, that’s the name.

Madison Malfoy has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?


End file.
